


Long Nights And Lord Save Us

by icarus_chained



Category: Original Work
Genre: Case Fic, Demons, Friendship, Gen, Magic, Monster Hunters, Original Fiction, Protectiveness, Team as Family, Urban Fantasy, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-15 10:30:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12319221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icarus_chained/pseuds/icarus_chained
Summary: When another team of hunters makes a mistake and blunders into a powerful witch, Rachel and her team are called in to try and fix it. They're not happy about it, and things don't go quite the way anyone planned. Except possibly Amos.





	Long Nights And Lord Save Us

**Author's Note:**

> I thought I'd take a quick break for an original concept fragment. Random bit of a thing.

Rachel stepped back out through the diner doors into the late afternoon sunshine, a fat paper bag under one arm and a tray of cardboard cups in the other hand. She smiled a thank you to the gruff-looking gentleman who'd held the door open for her, and tipped her face towards the sun for a second before turning left and ambling back across to the car and her companions.

Courtney was tipped back in the passenger seat when she arrived, her feet up on the dash and the arm with her cigarette dangling out the window. Amos' gangly legs hung out the rear window behind her, the man attached to them stretched out across the back seat, one arm flung protectively across his face. Headache was still alive and kicking, then. Rachel shook her head and steered around the hood to the driver's door. Courtney twisted awkwardly across the car to pop the door for her, leaving her feet defiantly where they were. She got a good jab in the ribs from the seatbelt buckle for it. It didn't seem to concern her much.

"Grub's up," Rachel said brightly, slinging herself down into her seat and pushing the tray of cups up onto the dash. Courtney grabbed it immediately, plopping it in her lap and popping the lids until she found the vanilla milkshake. She handed that back to a grateful Amos, and then put the tray back, her chocolate shake pointing towards her and Rachel's tea over on the driver's side. She took one last drag of her cigarette and tossed the butt out the window before looking pointedly at the paper sack. Rachel grinned faintly and handed it over. "They didn't have much that wasn't fried, Ame. Got you some chowder. That okay?"

"Sounds great," he said, a little distractedly as he tried to sit up, juggle the milkshake, and pull five miles of leg back in the window. "I'm not picky, Rache, you know that. So long as it's not drowning in grease I'll be fine."

"Should be okay then," Courtney said, locating the styrofoam bowl and its little plastic spoon and handing them back to him. "Doesn't smell too bad, actually."

Amos smiled crookedly at her. "Want to trade, then?" he asked mildly, offering it back. Courtney hissed at him, and clutched her grease-wrapped cheeseburger to her chest. 

"Not on your life," she said smartly. "You can keep your fish soup, Prof. _I'm_ having _bacon_."

Rachel chuckled. "Yeah," she said. "And _I'm_ having a steak sandwich, so if you could quit hogging shit and hand that over, that'd be nice. My tea's getting cold, you know."

Courtney glared at her sideways, but handed the bag back over with reasonable grace. She spread greaseproof paper and napkins across her lap, burger in one hand, and dumped fries and salt across the lot of it. Amos winced faintly in the back seat, but forbore comment. Courtney grinned lazily at him anyway. Rachel ignored them both, and fished her steak sandwich and some napkins out of the bag.

"Once you've eaten that, Ame, you should take some painkillers," she said, lifting the top of her sandwich and picking the peppers out. "Gonna be meeting with Roarke and his boys soon, and he's a fucking pain in the ass from a standing start. You don't want to be going within a mile of him if you've already got a headache."

Amos hummed agreeably. Courtney growled.

"Piece of shit idiot," she grumbled, stabbing fries into her mouth. "Why's he still here, huh? He already fucked the job up once. What's he tryna do, stick around and fuck it up some more?"

"He's 'keeping an eye on the problem' for us," Rachel said primly, rolling her eyes in agreement. "Plus, he's still got Peter laid up at the motel. They wanna give him a couple more days rest before they start dragging him around in that van of theirs. Whatever hit him on that property line, it rung his bell good and proper."

"Soul ward," Amos said softly, stirring the lumps in his chowder. "Sounds like, anyway. He's gonna need help. They give you nightmares, those ones."

Rachel grimaced. "Yeah," she said, and took a swig of her tea against the sudden souring of her stomach. "I think it is already. Roarke sounded strung out and frazzled when he talked to me. Don't think they're getting an awful lot of sleep."

Courtney snorted. "Serves 'em right," she said stubbornly, but she'd slowed her race through the food as well. "Shoulda waited, shouldn't they? Roarke ain't up for heavy duty defenses like that. He shoulda sat his ass down and waited. Instead he's lit the wards up like Christmas trees for us, and Pete's laid up screaming."

A fair point, Rachel conceded. Roarke always was too goddamned cocksure and gung ho for this shit. He was all right on monster hunts, but anything hunkered down on home turf was way out of his league. He _should_ have sat down and waited. 

And he knew that, too. Which was why he was gonna be a right bear when they got to him.

"Let me do the talking," she said, looking back at Amos in particular. He hadn't met Roarke yet. He hadn't met a lot of people yet, and Roarke wasn't exactly going to be the best of beginnings either. He was still finding his feet. He didn't need that shit. "You have a look at Peter, Ame, see if there's anything you can do for him. Let me and Cee handle Roarke, okay?"

He eyed her steadily for that. The sort of calm, placid look of a man who'd seen a lot more than she wanted to give him credit for. But then he smiled, sweetly, and nodded.

"Just don't kill him," he said quietly. Looking more at Courtney than at her. "If he's too much of an idiot it'll catch up with him eventually anyway. Don't pick fights. Neither of you need the headache either."

" _Hah!_ " Courtney let out a hard breath of mockery. She didn't argue, though, and Rachel didn't either. Instead, wordlessly, she reached into the doorside pocket, and handed a packet of painkillers back to him. He took them with a soft, ready smile.

And then there was nothing but to finish eating, and head out to Roarke's motel to find out what was what.

It was heading on for evening by the time they made it. They wouldn't be doing anything beyond getting briefed tonight. Not that Rachel had planned on it anyway. Something as well entrenched as this thing, she hadn't exactly been planning on rushing right towards it. Shit like that was what had gotten Roarke's crew slammed in the first place. But they had been later than she'd planned getting in as well. Bet Roarke was gonna be happy about that. 

She booked their room first then, and to hell with him. One room, two beds, on the clear opposite end of the compound from Roarke's bunch. She didn't want more hassle tonight than they were gonna be getting anyway. It was only once they'd dropped off their shit and gotten things more or less settled that she gathered up the other two and headed down his way.

Johnny was standing out on the walkway waiting for them when they arrived. He looked pale and shaky, and had one cigarette cupped in his hand and another tucked behind his ear. There were pale lines of stress around his eyes. He nodded silently at her, and tipped his head towards the open door behind him.

"Boss is in there," he gravelled tiredly. "Pete's gone bad. Needs help, if you got it."

Rachel didn't even have to look at him. Amos touched her shoulder lightly, and slipped ahead of them into the room, Courtney an angry, defensive shadow at his heels. Rachel let them go. Courtney could handle Roarke for him. He'd be nothing but bluster and temper anyway at this stage. She leaned against the railing and looked at Johnny instead. He looked away, bringing his cigarette up to his lips. Waited a minute to say anything.

"... Started slipping yesterday afternoon," he said at last. "Falling asleep. Nightmares. Woke us all up at all hours last night, screaming and crying. Seemed a bit better this morning. Then about two, three hours ago, fell asleep again. No screaming. No crying. Just ain't woke up again."

Rachel exhaled quietly. "Gone deep," she said sadly. He nodded. "Don't know how much we can do if it's sucked him all the way down. I ain't seen Amos handle anything that bad yet."

Johnny shrugged. "Find out soon, won't we?" he said, and turned his head back out over the lot to smoke his cigarette. Rachel waited with him a minute or two. Then she lifted herself up off the railing, and headed in to see what was up with the other two.

She didn't see Courtney at first. Or Roarke. There were low, furious voices coming from behind the door to what was presumably the bathroom, though, so she didn't worry about that too much. Courtney would handle him, and maybe work off a bit of her temper in the process. She didn't have a lot of patience for men like Michael Roarke any more. Five years under a bastard's thumb and a quick round in a demon funhouse had cured that.

Peter was laid out on one of the twin beds, looking exceptionally cold and pale against the sunset orange bedspread. Damien was perched anxiously beside him, eyeing Amos suspiciously across his partner's body. Amos was ignoring him completely, crouched between the beds, his elbows on his knees, the whole of his attention focused on Peter's face. His expression was absent and thoughtful, when Rachel angled around the beds to catch a glimpse of it.

That wasn't good. If it had been good, it would have been narrow and focused, as he geared up to actually do something. It wasn't bad either, though.

If it had been bad, he'd have closed his eyes.

"... Ame?" she asked quietly. She sat down on the end of the second bed, and waited until he'd refocused enough to turn his head and look at her. He looked a little startled, but his eyes were calm and clear. "Can you do anything for him?"

She saw Damien straighten in anticipation behind him, and heard Johnny drifting into the room behind her. Courtney's argument with Roarke continued apace, though. They'd be at it another while yet. Didn't matter. They could fill them in soon enough anyway. Amos was the important one here.

He blinked at her thoughtfully for a second or two. Gathering his thoughts. And then:

"We need to head out tonight," he said. "It is a soul ward. He's still tied back to it. We need to get to the property. Tonight. I don't think he'll last 'til morning."

Both Damien and Johnny flinched. Rachel grimaced instead. "Damn it," she sighed. "We're not ready, Ame. We've been driving for three days. The lot of us are spent. If this thing is as heavily defended as these idiots made it sound, we're not coming back if we go out like this."

He smiled at her. A tired, seamed grin. "Don't worry about it," he said easily. "We'll be fine. Trust me."

" _Fine_?!" Damien cut in incredulously, before Rachel had more than opened her mouth. He stood up, looming over Amos threateningly. Rachel came slowly to her feet in answer to it. Amos never stirred, blinking placidly up at him as he ranted. "You think this is going to be _fine_? That thing's like Fort Knox out there! There's wards wrapped around every inch the fucking place. We couldn't even get past the first line. What are you gonna do, swan right through it? While Pete's _dying_?"

He made a move to grab Amos, pick him up by his collar. Rachel moved two steps forward to stop him, an angry crackle in her fist, and behind her Johnny drifted sideways to do _something_ as well. The bathroom door opened behind her, Roarke's bulk leaning out of it with Courtney elbowing angrily past him to see what the yelling was about. Before anyone could move, though, Amos forestalled them. He reached up and touched lightly at Damien's wrist.

"It will be fine," he said calmly. That soft, steady firmness Rachel remembered from the funhouse, all those months ago. Damien faltered in the face of it, and Amos took the opportunity to gently disentangle his hand and guide it back. "I think I have a feel for her now. We'll be done by dawn, don't worry. I'm sure your friend will be fine."

Damien stumbled back, and both Johnny and Roarke eased down a touch from their roaring readiness, but Rachel was focused on Amos still. On one word, in particular.

"Her?" she asked, and Amos turned again to nod.

"Her," he confirmed lightly. "The wards were wrought by a woman. A human one. Not a demon, anyway. She's quite powerful, I think. There's a lot of patience in her work."

Rachel tucked her tongue between her teeth to keep a lid on her burgeoning temper, and turned slowly to face Roarke. Very slowly, a steady, _careful_ movement. Angry and ragged and stupid as he was, even Roarke flinched slightly at the expression on her face. 

"... A witch," she said mildly. "A powerful one. Like I _told you_. Goddamn it, Roarke!"

"We couldn't be sure!" he snapped back, but he was glancing over at Pete even as he said it. He looked at his man lying on the bed, and his head sank down between his shoulders. "We didn't know until we hit the wards, Rachel. All we heard up to that, coulda been a shifter out there. All anybody said was there was a house out there with howls comin' out of it and wolves seen wandering around it."

"Yeah," she said coldly. "A house nobody could _get_ to. A house people got foggy and confused around. I told you there were wards out there. You ignored me. Pete getting hurt, that's on _you_ , Roarke. And anything happens tonight, that's on you too, and if we survive it I'm coming back and taking it out of your hide."

He didn't answer that. Just glared mutely in bottled, ugly anger. But Johnny, lurking by the outside door still, decided to comment. 

"So," he said thoughtfully. "You all going, then? Gonna go get Pete back?"

Rachel looked at the other two. Her two. It'd already been decided though. Amos had decided, the minute he'd seen Pete's condition. And Courtney, for all her temper and her dislike for the bunch of gung ho idiots, wasn't going to leave anyone to die either. Which only left Rachel, and _somebody_ had to ride herd on the pair of them. Amos would get in trouble otherwise, and Courtney would follow right behind him rather than leave him alone in it.

"... Yeah," she said, tired and resigned while they smiled at her. "Yeah, I guess we are."

Johnny nodded amiably. "Okay. I'll drive you out there, then."

He didn't wait for an answer, either. He just looked over at Pete once, ambled over to grab a set of keys off a nightstand, and turned without a word to head outside. Roarke looked after him like he wanted to say something, but something about the set of Johnny's spine put him off. He sighed angrily instead, and headed over to the little kitchenette to jerkily start brewing some coffee. Damien glanced between them awkwardly, and then shrugged and sat back down at Pete's side. Keeping vigil. It was gonna be a long night for them.

It might not be quite so long for Rachel. Depending on what they found out there.

She looked to her two again. "You ready?" she asked quietly. Amos nodded peaceably. Courtney kicked the skirting board grumpily.

"Let me swing back by the room," she sighed. "Gotta pick up my gear if we're going anywhere serious. Can't just wing it the way you two can."

Yeah. True blue human, Courtney was. Didn't have Rachel's bit of magic, or Amos' ... whatever Amos' deal was. She had to go about things the old fashioned way. Didn't slow her down much, though. She'd survived Amos' funhouse too, even if only the once. She'd spent two years tracking him down again afterwards, too. Learning whatever she needed to learn along the way. She was a tough piece of work, Courtney, and had been before Rachel'd ever found her.

"Sure thing," she agreed readily. "Thought I might pack a thermos too. And some painkillers, in case that headache Amos has kicks back in. We'll get kitted up. Then we'll grab Johnny and head out."

"Bring the rings, too," Amos said softly. Looking at Courtney. "The soft ones. Shields and protection. Leave the angry ones behind."

Courtney raised her eyebrows at him. "What, we goin' softly-softly?"

He nodded absently. "Patience," he said, with fuck all in the way of context. "Keep it easy. Leave the angry ones behind."

Courtney glanced over at her instead, but Rachel had nothing. She shrugged, and Courtney threw up her hands. "Okay," she said. "Whatever you say. Softly-softly it is."

Yeah. It was going to be a _long_ night.

It was a long drive, too. The house was a long way outside of town. Made sense, that, for either a shifter _or_ a witch. They didn't tend to like being disturbed. It was a big property too. Wide lawns, backing onto woods and the lake. Rachel didn't like to say it, but she could see why Roarke had assumed what he did. If a shifter had money, this was _exactly_ the kind of place they'd go for. Isolated, open, with room to run around in. The place stank of magic, though. The wards were comprehensive, and they were _heavy_. Fort Knox didn't even begin to cover it.

And somehow Roarke had ignored that. Somehow he'd bulled right into the middle of it, just armoured enough to slap aside the gentler wards aimed to steer ignorant locals away. He and his team had ploughed through those, and gotten a face full of soul ward instead.

Jesus, but he was a fucking idiot. And his team didn't help either. None of them really had the spine to tell him to go fuck himself when he needed it. Well. Johnny, maybe, but the problem with Johnny was that he was apathetic as fuck and usually didn't give a shit until _after_ Roarke had already dragged them through hell. 

Though maybe he'd learn now. Maybe he'd start to give one after this.

Her team had more patience, at least. Even travelling on her own, she'd had more patience. Courtney'd tested it a bit, when they'd first hooked up. She'd been angry then, desperate. She'd bulled forwards because she often didn't know any better, and she'd been too driven to think about backing down. She had sense, though. Caution. Five years living with an asshole who knocked the shit out of her had taught her that, and the funhouse had taught her a whole lot more. Once Rachel'd started teaching her what to look for, Courtney had caught on fast.

And Amos, well. The man had spent six years locked in travelling funhouse of horrors for a demon's amusement, trying to guide an endless series of idiots through its traps. When it came to caution and looking where he was leaping, Rachel hadn't had to teach him a damn thing.

He looked out over the property now, his eyes sweeping it calmly and curiously in the moonlight. There was a hint of the absence he'd had looking at Pete, a vague, distant look to him like he was half focusing somewhere else. Rachel still didn't quite know what was happening there. He hadn't a lick of magic of his own, nothing native to him at all, but the years in the funhouse had _done_ something to him. Done quite a few things, really. He could track magic like nobody she'd ever seen these days. He could read patterns and intentions better than some of the most experienced warlocks she knew.

He studied the place for a good few minutes. Then he straightened up and gave a low hum of satisfaction. Rachel pushed herself up off the car. Courtney hopped down from the hood. She shook out her wrists, letting the protective charms on her bracelets settle, and Rachel loosened out her joints and let magic crackle along her knuckles too. 

Ready, then. As ready as they were going to get.

Amos set off at a steady, easy amble, trusting them to fall into step behind him. He didn't have to worry about that. Only Johnny, who'd never followed him before, might have had trouble with it, but Johnny was staying with the car. Both Rachel and Courtney knew exactly what he was doing, and why it was always sensible to do exactly what he said while he was doing it.

"We're following the guest path, I think," he said softly, leading obliquely up the lawn, away from the drive or any of the paved paths. "She's left it open. There's a couple of tricky bits, but I think we'll be okay to the door. It doesn't feel like people follow this much."

Mostly, Rachel imagined, because most people would have to already know it was there before they saw it. Meaning it was mostly only friends who'd manage it.

"And what are we going to do then?" Courtney asked pointedly. "If we're going softly-softly? We looking for someplace to break in?"

Amos glanced back at her, smiling faintly. "I thought we might try the doorbell," he said mildly. "We're going to have to ask her to lift the soul ward anyway. There's no harm trying it the polite way first. You never know. She might be reasonable."

Courtney nearly stopped in her tracks. She _didn't_ , knowing better than to falter when in the middle of a live ward network, but she certainly thought about it for a second. She stared incredulously at the back of his head, and then shot an equally incredulous look Rachel's way. Rachel, equally incredulous if slightly less surprised, could only grimace back.

"I hope you know what you're doing," was all she said. Amos snorted softly.

"Never a day in my life," he murmured. "But it hasn't killed me yet, so it seems to be working fine. Don't worry. She's patient, this one. She hits hard, but not fast. We'll be all right."

And Roarke would miraculously grow some sense as well. But fine. The door was just up ahead anyway. They might as well, since they were here. 

Amos pressed politely on the doorbell, Courtney grumbling and angry at his back, Rachel slightly back and to one side to cover them both. On the porch of a witch's house, with one of the biggest, nastiest webs of wards she'd ever seen spread behind them, but _fine_. It was Amos' show here. And he did have the best and most rigorously trained instincts of any of them.

It took a good few minutes for the door to open. Sheer surprise, probably. Rachel wondered vaguely if anyone had ever rung the woman's doorbell before. Possibly not. There was a path for guests, but she imagined most of those either had invitations or a key. A ward setup like that somewhat discouraged surprise visitors, she imagined. It wasn't at all surprising that the door only opened a few minutes later, and in a slow, wary creak at that.

"... Yes?" the witch asked bemusedly. She was a rather handsome woman, Rachel noted. Middle aged. Rangy. Bolts of steel grey in her hair. Her sleeves were rolled to her elbows. She looked like one of those early retirement artistes.

"Pardon me, ma'am," Amos said politely. "I wondered if we could speak with you. There was an incident with your wards a few nights back, and a colleague of ours is in some trouble because of it. I wonder if we might talk to you about that?"

The witch stared at him incredulously for a bit, but Rachel could have told her she'd find no help there. Amos was immune to stares. He was immune to quite a lot, actually, up to and including horrific death when his demon was in the mood. Though that probably wasn't the case outside the funhouse. They had wondered, but no one had been particularly eager to test it. He healed pretty quickly, even still, but you only had to watch a man burn alive once before you got a bit determined to keep him away from anything even slightly uncomfortable.

Not that _Amos_ seemed so determined. He was entirely blase about the matter. But at least he was generally cautious as a matter of instinct. He only moved when he genuinely thought he saw a way through.

"It is a little urgent, ma'am," he continued now, quiet and earnest. "They didn't seem to understand what was happening until too late. He's on the brink now, and my colleagues and I only arrived today. I'd be very grateful if you at least allowed us a conversation about it. He seems a nice young man. I'd be distressed to see him die."

The witch blinked a bit. Opened her mouth. "... These are the hunters who tried to break into my house?" she asked. Pretty mildly, really. She was still a bit bemused, Rachel thought. "The ones who came to kill me? Why would I want to help them?"

"They were a bit impolite," Amos agreed, and Courtney clapped a hand over her mouth hastily. Rachel pressed her lips together herself, especially as the witch glanced disbelievingly between them. Rachel found herself shrugging sympathetically at her. Amos was an experience, the first time around, no doubt about that. "In their defense, though, I don't think they were specifically targeting _you_ , as such. Not as you are. I believe they were under the impression you were a shifter of some kind. We're not so confused, and we'd quite like the chance to talk it over. If you wouldn't mind?"

"Yes," Rachel cut in, when the witch just stared at him some more. "He is serious, and he is telling the truth as well. Roarke and his crew _are_ a bunch of idiots, but they do generally only go for things they think are a danger to people. If there's any chance of pulling Peter out of your wards in one piece, we really would like to talk about it."

The witch narrowed her eyes there. Looking Rachel over, the set of her shoulders, the spark of magic inside her. Then over to Courtney, skinny and defensive, a baton on her belt and charms in other people's magic around her neck and her wrists and her fingers. And then Amos, more properly this time. Rachel watched the woman's breath catch as she finally managed an in-depth look at him. At the thousands of criss-cross layers of almost-vanished magical scarring, in particular. Oh yes. Amos was an experience, every time.

"... Are you sure it's the boy hunter you want to talk about?" she asked finally, in a distant, hushed sort of voice. Amos blinked at her in surprise. "There's worse than a soul ward on you. You have an old lord's eyes upon you. At least the hunter only stands to lose his life."

Amos blinked again. And then he smiled, softly and sadly. "The boy, yes," he said. "I'm not sure there's much you can do about mine. He chose to let me go. I doubt there's much will stop him choosing to gather me back again."

Rachel didn't argue with him. Neither did Courtney, though she clearly wanted to. This wasn't the sort of thing they were going to bandy about in front of some strange witch, no matter how powerful or knowledgeable she might turn out to be. The first rule of thumb. Never trust _anyone_ with power. They weren't asking her that. The demon would come for Amos when he came for him, and they'd do their best to stop him when it happened, with whatever knowledge and weapons they'd picked up along the way. They weren't here for that. They were here for Peter. The rest they'd fix when it came to it.

The witch didn't argue with him either. There was a look on her face that might have been sympathy, briefly, or maybe even respect, but either way she inclined her head at that, and let the matter rest. 

"Come in," she said, stepping to one side and holding the door open for them. "I swear on my name and my magic that you shall be safe within my home so long as you make no move to harm me or mine. We can discuss your boy hunter, and your interference in my affairs as well. And, goddess willing, we shall see if there is a solution that might be come to before dawn."

They glanced at each other, the three of them. A bit bemused and disbelieving themselves. This wasn't the way things normally went. But then Amos smiled, small and smug, and Courtney threw up her hands in exasperation, and Rachel let out her breath in a long sigh.

"We'd be delighted," she said, grabbing Amos by the hips and steering him to one side so she could take point and follow the witch inside. Courtney grabbed his hand and tugged him impatiently along as she followed. He went along with all of it cheerfully, letting them take the lead now that his job was done again for the moment. The witch stared at all of them in flat bemusement, like they were nothing she'd seen the like of in her life, but eventually she shrugged internally as well and closed the door neatly behind them.

"Come on then," she said, pushing past to lead them down the hall. "I can tell already it's going to be a _long_ night." 

And yeah, Rachel thought sympathetically. Yeah. She could have told her that one too.

But hey. They were here now, and they might as well get on with it.

Lord save them all from idiots.


End file.
